Landlocked
by Bone Structure
Summary: Hermione goes speed dating and runs into a familiar face... Fleurmione. Hr/F.
1. Chapter 1

**Landlocked**

Chapter 1

by Bone Structure

Hermione was clutching her bag nervously; she had never been to this part of town. Scared that she had the wrong address, Hermione dug into her pocket to find a small piece of parchment that read, "The Forum, 402 Lancy Steet." Hermione looked up behind her and saw that she was in the right place, with The Forum standing right behind her.

She tried to look casual as her eyes glazed over the streets again, looking for Ginny. There wasn't a sign of the redheaded girl to be seen.

" 'Mione!"

Hermione smiled once she heard the familiar voice call her name, and in the distance she saw a bright red dot running toward her and growing larger until the full image of Ginny was right in front of her. _Finally_.

"Sorry I'm late!" Ginny looked like a hot mess, she had clearly ran for quite a bit.

"Really Ginny, you invited _me_ out, you should have the courtesy to be on time." Hermione's voice has a hint of bitterness in it, "I've never even been this place."

"Relax, it'll be fun. I've never gone speed dating before." Before Hermione could respond, Ginny pulled out a mirror and began matting down her hair, "Ugh, remind me to never run again. Completely ruined my hair." It had been a few months since Ginny and Harry had broken up, both claimed that they were too busy to make it work - though Hermione secretly suspected that wasn't the real reason - and Hermione knew that Ginny was trying hard to move on.

Once Ginny felt her hair was back to normal, the two girls entered The Forum. Hermione looked around and noticed that the restaurant was designed to reflect some kind of ancient Roman style. A few tables had been neatly arranged into a line. _Probably for speed dating_, she thought.

"Come on! We need to get our numbers!" Ginny yanked Hermione's hand and pulled her over to the hostess.

"Here," the hostess handed Ginny two numbers, one of which was red whereas the other was blue. "Blue numbers stay at their tables, red numbers change tables when I ring the bell. Yes, you'll run into both men and women this way." Hermione gulped when she heard the hostess last statement.

"I'll be red," Ginny was already pinning her number, 08, to her shirt. "Put it on," she said, handing Hermione a blue number, 017.

The hostess handed the two girls sheets of paper with numbers on them. "Circle the number of your best dates, girls. No more than three. If any of those people circle you too, you have a match."

The dates were not going well. Most people had recognized Hermione from the past, from papers printed after the war.

"You're that girl, I remember, the friend of Harry Potter," said 022. He was a young, chestnut haired man, wearing a dress shirt and slacks under his elegant black and purple trimmed robe.

"Did you just come from work?" Hermione tried to change the subject. She was tired of people asking about the war.

"Oh yes, I manage a wand insurance company," he smiled proudly but Hermione rolled her eyes. Wand insurance was such a scam; did he think he was impressive? Apparently he did because he spent their entire five minute date talking about himself. Thankfully, the hostess rang the bell just as he started talking about the size of his office. She sighed, getting herself mentally ready for the next horrible date. She looked over at Ginny and wondered if Ginny was having any success.

"Hello, Hermione." Hermione's head immediately turned up the person who was about to sit across from her.

"Fleur?" Indeed it was Fleur, with a big red 018 taped to her chest.

"Having a good time so far?" The French woman sat down with a smile.

"A bloody wretched time. What are you doing here?"

"Also having a bloody wretched time." Fleur smiled as she took a sip of her drink. This made Hermione laugh.

"No, really, why are you here? This is the last place I would have expected you." Fleur could have used her thrall to have anyone. How could she ever be desperate enough for this?

"I'm here for a friend. See number 026? We work together. She did not want to come alone. And you? I am sure a charming, smart British girl does not need to be here." Fleur had a coquettish smile on, and there was bit of a gleam to her eyes that wasn't there before. Hermione felt herself blush very slightly.

"The same reason as you. Ginny needed some support," Hermione explained, still slightly flustered. It had been a while since anyone had complimented her.

"She and Harry...?" Fleur seemed slightly surprised.

"They said they were too busy for each other, especially with Ginny always traveling around for Quidditch… Though I doubt that's true."

"What about you and Ron? I assume it did not work out? Since you are here, after all."

"Broke up a bit after you and Bill did. I guess none of us lasted." Hermione expected herself to be sad, though she wasn't. Secretly she had wished at one of the war couples would have lasted. It would have been a nice fairy tale ending, after the all the suffering.

"What happened? Between you and Ron, I mean."

"It was complicated. He's a great friend and the war... You start to confuse yourself. I thought I loved him for a while, but after everything, I realized I just didn't. " Hermione knew she was only telling Fleur half the story.

"I think perhaps that happened to a lot of us. After the war I realized I did not have true feelings for Bill, nothing more than friendly ones." Fleur's face shared a small, sad smile. She had tried to make it work out, she spent a few years trying to give herself to Bill. She wanted to want him, desperately, but he couldn't inspire her to bare her soul. He was not her soulmate.

There was a silence, and then Hermione, deciding to change the subject, said, "So, anyone here you like so far?"

"Perhaps one person," Fleur's solemn expression changed to one that was almost mischievous, "And you?"

"Honestly, you're the best date I've had so far." Hermione noticed Fleur's grin grow wider. "Hey, don't get too cocky! The precedent isn't terribly high here." Hermione had a smug little smile on.

"It mustn't be, you're my best so far as well," Fleur teased, looking down at her parchment. She picked up a quill that was set in the middle of the table and circled the number 017. "Hopefully these dates will get better and I can scratch that circle out later." Fleur looked up at Hermione and smiled. There was something rich and strong in her smile, her neat and perfect teeth flashed. The younger witch felt her stomach do a tiny flip and she couldn't help but smile back.

The bell rung and Fleur stood up again. "Enjoy your other dates," Fleur winked. Hermione rolled her eyes jokingly and waited until Fleur had sat down at another table. Quickly she picked up the quill and circled Fleur's number, 018, hoping the French witch wasn't watching her.

* * *

**AN:** I stopped reading the Harry Potter series after Order of Phoenix, the very little of canon I know after that have been pieced together from other works of fanfiction. In order words, this story does not follow canon, but likely shadows it. Reviews appreciated, and obviously fuel further updates. Suggest, flame, or even praise as generously as you please.


	2. Chapter 2

**Landlocked**

Chapter 2

by Bone Structure

"I think I'm in love, 'Mione!" After the last bell rang Ginny ran up to Hermione, crushing her ribs in a tight hug. "Number thirty… Is he looking at me now?" Ginny loosen her embrace and Hermione turned her head to look for the man in the crowd. "No, no! Don't look at him now! He'll catch you!" Ginny was actually giggling.

"Ginny, I hardly think you're in love after five minutes." Hermione rolled her eyes at the silliness of her friend, but also smiled, happy for Ginny's happiness.

The hostess came out and wildly rung her bell. "All right, everyone finish up your selections. Please seat yourselves while we collect and sort out your forms!" Hermione grabbed her giddy friend and took a seat at the nearest table.

"You didn't see this man. He was beautiful man, a bloody beautiful man. I died the second I saw him. I'm praying he chose me," Ginny handed her parchment to the hostess.

"If he's half a smart as you think he's attractive, he will have," Hermione put her hand on Ginny's arm, trying to calm the girl down. At the same time she began to gaze around the room, perhaps looking to see if a certain blond witch was still around.

"Damn right, he better have. Now, what about you? I saw that parchment of yours, number eighteen? I didn't see them."

"No one important," Hermione fibbed, "They were the lesser of all evils."

"In case anyone hasn't told you, you're a downer. You must have had at least twenty dates and you hated all of them? You're rotten. And picky."

"I get enough of that from Ronald now. Don't you start with that now."

Ginny was thankful to hear the hostess ring the bell again. She loved Hermione, but she also knew the girl could be insufferable when the mood hit.

"Alright, witches and wizards! Your selections have been sorted. At the flick of my wand, a number should appear on your hand. This is the person you have matched with. No number, no match. Sorry folks." The hostess flicked her wand and Hermione instantly felt a warm sensation run through her as the spell was cast on her. For a moment she hesitated, though she knew there was only one person with whom she could have been matched, and then she anxiously she opened her palm.

_Nothing!_ Hermione open and closed her hand again and yet nothing appeared. She hadn't expected this. _Bloody Fleur, _she thought bitterly, _I only picked her because she picked me! Leading me on…_

" 'Mione, did you match?" Ginny asked, too busy looking at her own hand to notice the scowl on Hermione's face.

"This is ridiculous! The audacity of that woman!"

"Huh?" Ginny's eyebrows perked up.

Hermione didn't even hear her redheaded friend or see her confusion; she immediately stood up and went on a rampage, searching through the crowd for the source of her anger. She couldn't find the French witch anywhere. In her rage she walked out of The Forum and pulled out her wand. She knew precisely what to do.

Stoutly, Hermione muttered an incantation, and a blood-red envelope appeared in her hand.

X

Fleur was a few blocks away when Hermione was angrily recording her message. She had left The Forum not terribly long after her mini date with the younger witch. There had been a moment afterward, while she was watching Hermione from across the restaurant, when an idea had struck her. Perhaps it was something about the way Hermione's hair framed her face, or the way her jaw curved… but a tiny flame was light inside her. Suddenly the thought of Hermione brought a tiny smile to her face.

"Do you need any help?" An old man came out from behind the store counter. He walked over to Fluer, accidently bumping into a table on his way, almost knocking down a vase of flowers.

"Oh, yes. Please," Fleur smiled warmly at the old man. She had her hand out, gently touching a rose. "I want a flower. But this does not feel quite right. I do not think this is the one I want." Fleur let go of the rose.

"What is the occasion?" The old man slightly adjusted the orientation of a few flowers in front of him. Fleur took a good look at the man. He was short with glasses and a small scruffy beard. Something about his hand knit red sweater made him seem kind. She imagined him going home to a wonderful wife and a cozy fire.

"A spark," Fleur finally answered the man's question, after a moment of thought.

"A spark?" the old man's eyebrows perked up from under his thick glasses. There was a little look of curiosity in his face.

"Preciously," said Fleur standing firmly in her vague answer.

"I've never found a flower for a spark before. Many birthdays, weddings, anniversaries… never a spark."

Despite the oddness of the request, the old man went to work immediately. He disappeared between rows of flowers and came back with a white flower in hand. Although Fleur knew nothing of flowers, except the most common ones, she suspected it was a lily. The man looked at the lily and at Fluer, then back at the lily again. He muttered something under his breath, disappeared once more, and came back with a flower Fleur definitely recognized. It was a sunflower.

* * *

**AN: Please forgive any grammatical errors for the moment. Excitement prevents me from being able to reread and edit properly. I will definitely go back and edit this later. Anyway, thank you guys kindly for reviews. It honestly makes my day to receive them and knowing that people are out there reading is definitely motivation. You guys are lovely.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Landlocked**

Chapter 3

by Bone Structure

Fleur walked down the street happily, even humming the tune of a childhood lullaby as she strolled down the sidewalk. The sunflower in her hand stood up perkily, waiting to be given away. She smiled to herself as she saw the Forum growing closer. _She will love this_, she thought, her smile widening even more.

But Fleur couldn't find Hermione in the restaurant. She looked around hopefully, waiting to see a bushy head of brown hair, but it wasn't there. The French woman muttered a curse, berating herself for being untimely and possibly losing out on the chance for a real date with Hermione.

"Fleur?"

Turning her head, the older woman caught sight of her ex-sister in law, who was sitting at a table with a young, well-dressed man. Fleur realized that she had come across him while speed dating, and remembered that he had suggested something particularly vulgar to her. And now, even as he sat across from Ginny, he smiled at her and winked. She shuddered and ignored him. _Other things to think about._

"Ginny, have you seen Hermione!" Fleur put no effort into hiding her urgency.

"Um, she kinda ran out after the matches were given… I don't think she was too happy about whatever she got."

"Shit," said Fleur. She was nervous. She dug into her pocket and realized that she had been an idiot. The parchment was still in her pocket. _I left so quickly I forgot to hand it in!_

"Perhaps this is an odd request, but could you tell me where she lives?"

X

Hermione was not a happy woman as she sealed the red envelope and sent it on its way. _That damn woman… the nerve of her. _She was furious but determined to forget about Fleur and her wicked teasing ways; she set a pot a water to boil, for tea later, and picked up a novel she had been reading.

The English woman did not make it very far into her reading. She had not even read a quarter of a page when she began to hear the sound of her own voice shrieking, loud enough to cause a small echo in her home.

"The howler?" she whispered. "It couldn't have been opened already nor should I be hearing it." Hermione put her book face down, intentionally keeping her page. "Unless _she's_ nearby… "

Cautiously, and also with a bit of embarrassment (it was on thing to record a howler, and an entirely different experience to hear the product of her own rage), Hermione stood up and slowly followed her voice. If she wasn't wrong, the source of the shouting seemed to be just outside her front door… _Oh Merlin…_

Hermione opened her door to the sight of a modified Fleur, who was actually being bitten by the howler.

"Hermione, what is happening?" Fleur screamed, desperately trying to pull the howler off her ear. She succeeded, with an awful lot of difficulty, and attempted to throw the howler on the floor. But the feisty little envelope refused to be beaten so easily.

"I thought you had changed. But you were always a flirt, and evidently always will be! There were so many rumors about you, ugh, that you liked to bring guys' hopes up! I bet that's secretly why you and Bill broke up… you thought you were too good for him! Well, you weren't! He was too good for you!"

Watching the howler scream so violently, and tears begin to form in Fleur's eyes, Hermione suspected that if Mrs. Weasley had ever seen Ron's face as he received them, she wouldn't have had the heart to send them anymore. Hermione heard the envelope repeat things that she herself did not remember saying. The guilt made her forget her anger, and Hermione began to reach out for the howler.

But the howler would not be stopped, the more Hermione reached for it, the louder it became, shouting horrible accusations, calling Fleur heartless and even once calling her a slut. Every time Hermione got a slight grip on the envelope, it flew up slightly higher, until it was outside her reach and neither of the two women had any choice but to listen to it.

In reality, the message could not have lasted more than a minute, maybe two, but it felt like a hundred years passed by before it ended and suddenly erupted into an explosion of crimson confetti. A few seconds of silence, another hundred years passed by, before either of them could speak.

"Fleur… look I was mad…"

"I think that was a tad bit obvious!" The tears that were once in Fleur's eyes had fully formed and chose that moment to run down her face.

"Come inside, I'll explain," Hermione held out her hand to grab Fleur's, but the older woman just moved away.

"I do not think there is anything to explain. Your nasty letter has explained a lot to me. Remind me, was it 'a salacious slut' that you called me? I believe so." The pain was palpable in Fleur's voice.

"Please, Fleur," Hermione took a step forward. Her mouth stood agape as she took a good look at Fleur and noticed that the French witch's ear was covered in blood, "Your ear…"

Fleur looked confused and lifted her hand to her ear. She felt liquid on it and saw that it was blood. As Fleur stood, looking at her blood covered hand, Hermione closed the space between them, gently took Fleur's head in her hands, and turned it with care to inspect the bleeding ear.

"This could need stitches, come in. You don't even have to speak to me. Just please let me look at it inside… This would never have happened if it weren't for me."

Fleur couldn't deny that Hermione wasn't right, and so she quietly followed the other witch into her home. She sat down in the kitchen, and Hermione pulled a chair up to her.

Wounds do not tend to hurt unless you are thinking of them. Fleur had not felt any pain until Hermione began inspecting her. She felt her right ear grow hot, and it began to throb. With great care, Hermione tucked a few hairs behind the ear, so that she could better see the wound. Even through the pain, Fleur felt Hermione's fingertips brush the edge of her ear and she shivered.

Hermione sensed the other woman shivered, and assuming it was caused by pain, she tenderly whispered, "It's okay. I have something for this." She stood up and walked out of the kitchen, returning quickly with a vial in her hands. The vial contained an oddly colored liquid in it, which Hermione slowly applied to Fleur's ear.

"Mmm," Fleur unconsciously let out a small purr from deepest part of her throat, enjoying Hermione's soft touch.

"Dittany," Hermione explained, making sure to be thorough with its application, "Speeds up the healing process tremendously. It should also help prevent any scaring…" At this moment, she stopped to look at the wounded ear and judged that she had done as well as she could. Happy with her work, Hermione closed the vial of Dittany and went over to sink to wash her hands.

Fleur could not help but watch the younger woman as she rid her hands of Dittany residue. Her eyes were fixed on Hermione. They moved downward along the girl's body, tracing out every curve. She noticed that the end of Hermione's shirt did not quite reach the top her pants, and a small centimeter of skin was exposed for the pleasure of her viewing. She had an unexplainable desire to touch it.

In her trance Fleur did not hear when Hermione had offered her a cup of tea, so she was surprised when the other girl set out two cups and sat down next to her again.

"I feel genuinely awful," Hermione ignored her tea for the moment and looked at Fleur's ear again.

"It is nothing to be concerned about," Fleur took the cup in front of her and let the warm tea run down her throat. Although Fleur would always prefer her native France to any country, she had to admit the English always seemed to have a finer selection of tea available. It was one of the few things she had learned while she was married to Bill.

"You may think so, but it's my fault, so let me worry and feel guilty."

"I admit that your concern pleases me," Fleur smiled and caught Hermione's gaze directly. A moment passed that way and both women felt an odd happiness in the bottom of their stomachs.

"Though perhaps you should not have sent that howler."

* * *

**AN: I tried to make this chapter longer, and apologize for the brevity of previous chapters. I also went back and edited some of Fleur's speech because I felt it the way she initially spoke wasn't very true to her (syntax wise, not content wise). I am trying to move this relationship along slowly, but I fear that the pacing might be awkward. As always reviews, of any nature, are wonderful and appreciated, especially in such hard times when motivation is difficult to come across.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Landlocked**

Chapter 4

by Bone Structure

Once the words passed Fleur's lips, her brows furrowed and her eyes darkened. There was a frown on her face. Hermione hated the way it looked on her. Where was the smile she had just seen a moment ago?

"I'm sorry…" Hermione unconsciously reached out to touch Fleur's arm, but Fleur moved away from the touch. Five seconds ago she would have died to feel Hermione's fingertips brush her skin, but now, remembering the howler, she couldn't stand the thought of it. _She cannot upset me, and get to comfort me too…_

"I am not so sure that you are sorry." It was biting and quick. It hurt.

"Fleur. I was angry. I do stupid things when I'm angry. I'm horribly irrational. I just say these things. They come out and I can't even control them." All the words were spilling out of her mouth, falling out, creating a mess. "It's one of the reasons Ron and I could have never worked out. I would get so angry. He started to resent me for it. But I couldn't help it, he was such an oblivious idiot sometimes and - wait, I don't think you're an idiot." Hermione was overflowing. "Don't think I was mad because I think you're an idiot, or something. I don't. I think I should stop talking now. I'm digging myself a hole, a huge one." Hermione tried to analyze the expression of Fleur's face, but she couldn't.

"Then why were you so upset?" Fleur eyebrows raised a bit, her expression relaxing.

Hermione didn't want to answer her. There was an answer buried inside her, one that had been buried years ago. She didn't need it to resurface, especially not now, many years later when she had just settled comfortably into her life. Why did Fleur have to ask? She didn't need the complication.

"It's difficult to explain."

"You just said you did not believe me to be an idiot. I can comprehend complex things." Fleur curled her hand around her forgotten mug of tea.

"There are a lot of reasons why Ron and I didn't work out…" Hermione hadn't told anyone. But she had to now. She had borne the secret for too long. "Ron... _he_ couldn't do it for me." Hermione hoped the message got across with her emphasis. "_He_ wasn't right for me." _Please understand_…

"Well, I understand that, clearly as you two are no longer together. I do not understand the connection to now. Your relationship with him is not related to the two of us." Fleur didn't understand. She would have to say it. Her throat would have to form the words and eject them for the world to hear.

Hermione swallowed as her mouth began to dry up. A thin layer of sweat formed on her hands and she feared Fleur could hear her heartbeat as clearly as she could.

"That's where you don't understand, Fleur…"

_It was the day of Fleur's wedding. She was getting dressed. Her hair half done and her dress half on, her sister and mother were running looking for just the right shade of lipstick. Ruby Red or Coral Crimson? Hermione was standing, somewhat awkwardly, near Fleur. She didn't belong there. What did she know about being fashionable, well dressed? She couldn't possibly have helped. She felt so out place. It didn't help that Gabrielle and Apolline kept rushing past her, pushing her out of the way. She had only come in for a bobby pin, and everyone had insisted she stay to help with the hectic preparations._

"_Hermione?" _

_She had been trying to avoid looking at the veela, but now she had no choice. _

"_Help me with this contraption!" Fleur was desperately trying to zip up her own dress, her hands wailing about blindly at her back. _

_Hermione took a step forward, clasping the zipper in her hands. She tried to zip it up quickly, but the quarters of the way through her progress halted. It was stuck._

"_Shit," she muttered, tightening her grip and pulling hard. Hermione began to show obvious signs of struggle and Fleur smiled. The more Hermione struggled, the wider the smile grew, until it was accompanied by a small fit of giggles._

"_I can't do this! I'm awful at these things. Lipstick, zippers, dresses… All of this is another language to me!" Hermione put her hands in the air and surrendered to the dress. Fleur turned around and smiled; she gently took Hermione's hands in her own and laughed. The rich, warm laughter soothed Hermione's mind and soon she too began to smile._

_Hermione couldn't quite recall how it happened. There was a natural gravitation. Fleur's hands and hers together, they couldn't help but to pull each other closer. There was a thread between them, its tension drawing them together. And soon they were so close Hermione could feel Fleur's breath on her face. Her breath was warm and soft, slow and elongated, like it had come from the deepest part of Fleur's being. She relished in it and wanted to draw the breath inside her, to take its heat and draw it in. She wanted to draw Fleur in. _

_She could barely feel it, yet it was all she felt. The force of Fleur's lips on hers was almost impalpable. It was a wonderful feeling, the smoothness of Fleur's lips, but it wasn't enough. As one often does in a kiss, she wanted more. She wanted closer. But just as she opened her mouth up to receive Fleur, fully, wholly, completely, the sound of Gabrielle's footsteps coming down the hall brought them both back to reality. Fleur was in a wedding dress._

"Do you remember … on your wedding day?" Hermione couldn't bring herself to say "us." _Do you remember us on your wedding day?_

Fleur looked at Hermione as though she had asked her what color the sky was or the sum of two and two. What a stupid question. Fleur nodded; of course she remembered, of course. How could she forget those few precious seconds? But then, how could Hermione expect her to remember? Mentally, she cursed herself for never having mentioned them again. She cursed herself for avoiding the young girl afterward, for dodging into rooms and closets. She should have said something.

"Something changed after that… it probably didn't mean anything to you; I don't think it did. After all, you were happy with Bill. But I couldn't be the same after that. I had always wondered why I couldn't feel anything for Ron, even though I desperately tried too. You made me realize something about myself."

"And what did you realize?" Fleur felt her chest expand with a permanently held breath. Even she was beginning to feel nervous.

"I-I like women," Hermione tested the waters. Fleur didn't show much of an immediate reaction. She continued. "No, that's understatement. I _love_ women."

At this both women let out a sigh. Hermione relieved to have finally gotten it off her chest and Fleur overcome with an unexpected joy.

"It took me a long time to come to terms with it. I remember I used to be so jealous when Ron would blab on about you. Now, years later, I know I wasn't jealous of you, like I thought I was. Rather, I was jealous of Ron. I wanted to be out there, talking about how gorgeous you were, chasing your attention, staring at your lovely ass…"

"Oh!" Fleur was pleased, particularly by Hermione's last comment. "You know, you can stare whenever it pleases you."

"Let's not talk about it!" Hermione was blushing, looking down at the table, avoiding Fleur's gaze.

"Oh, we must and we will!" Fleur's happiness was infectious, Hermione caught her laugher and despite her awful embarrassed, a small laughed traveled from her belly out of her mouth.

"It was so long ago, ugh. I was fourteen. I had a massive crush on you. I'm older now, it's gone." Fleur didn't like the sound of that, but truthfully she didn't believe it entirely. At least, she didn't want to believe it.

Hermione was still blushing when she collected their tea mugs and put them in the sink.

"You were not fourteen on the date of my wedding," Fleur raised one eyebrow, her face shining with a cocky grin.

"This is not up for discussion." The younger witch began to wash the cups furiously, not out anger, but out of embarrassment. This is why she'd never told anyone about her crush. She didn't want to be that girl, one of the many, fawning over Fleur. It made her feel stupid. Fleur could have anyone she wanted, why would she choose her?

But Fleur didn't have anyone else in mind as stood up from her chair. As quickly and quietly as she could, she walked over to Hermione, who was washing the mugs by hand (the way muggles were so inclined to do it), and hovered behind the young girl.

It was the kind of closeness where each girl could feel the other even without the luxury of touch. Warmth was enough to alert their bodies of each other.

Fleur noticed that Hermione's breath began to quicken, becoming so shallow that if she focused enough, and Fleur was _very_ focused, she could hear it lightly as it exited the cave of Hermione's mouth and rushed passed her lips into the air.

"How long did it last?" Fleur placed her hands on Hermione's waist, pulling her closing the already infinitesimal space between them.

Hermione, who was usually endlessly filled with words, found that she suddenly had none in her possession. She was both nervous and comfortable, and, naturally, that confused her. She wanted to be in Fleur's arms but she couldn't control the erratic beating of her heart, or the shaking of her hands. She felt foolish for being so affected by Fleur's simple affection.

"Mmmm, you have not answered me." Fleur probed Hermione again, her long "mmm" causing a vibration in her throat. A vibration Hermione could feel.

"It-it was on and off," Hermione consciously tried to stop herself from shaking, "For… a few years."

"And what about right now?" Fleur, a few inches taller than the younger woman, leaned down and whispered directly into Hermione's ear. If anyone had asked Hermione to describe Fleur's voice in that moment, she would have said it was thick: thick and heavy. A little voice in Hermione's head hoped, _Heavy with want? _And this little voice was the voice that gave her courage. She knew this opportunity, and this desire, to be open may not have come again.

"On. It is very, _very _on."


	5. Chapter 5

**Landlocked**

Chapter 5

by Bone Structure

_On. It is very, __very __on._ The words repeated in Fleur's mind and she felt herself tremble with want. But it was not only want. It was fear.

Fleur liked to think of herself as predator, pretending that the quarter veela in her allowed her some sexual prowess, but truthfully Fleur knew nothing. Why yes, she had a thrall (many had told her it was unusually strong for just a part veela), and yes, men and women fawned over her, but what did that teach her? It was one thing to be desired, and an entirely different one to desire. She had played cocky with Hermione, a skill she had perfected as a means of self-preservation, but never once had she had to act on her words.

But Fleur knew one thing for certain: she desperately wanted to kiss Hermione. In that moment she had never wanted to kiss anyone else more. But all she could do was hold Hermione against her, pulling the girl's back into her. She hoped that Hermione could not feel her nervous, shaky hands. She did not want to look foolish.

Hermione was the one who took the first step. She pulled away slowly before turning around to face Fleur. When their eyes met, Hermione timidly redirected her gaze to her shoes. Hermione smiled when she saw her feet and Fleur's entwined, side by side. But that image only held her interest for so long. Again she looked up, tilting her head back just slightly to make up for the height difference between them. _She must be at least four inches taller than me._

Both of them were waiting. Waiting to be kissed. Hermione wrapped her arms around Fleur's neck, and leaned in. Although she had experienced it only once before, she felt the familiarity of Fleur's breathing. The rhythm, the sound, the feel of her breath, she felt it all as she drew it into her.

It was that precious moment, immediately before a kiss, the kind of kiss you know will change everything, were all else slowly fades out and nothing else is important. It is a moment of anxiety, waiting something desperately and being so infinitely close.

Fleur pressed her palms against Hermione's hips, pushing the girl against the kitchen counter. It was time to let her desire surmount her fear. She would not let this opportunity pass.

"God, Fluer," Hermione whispered, "Please, kiss –"

Hermione was stopped mid-sentence by Fleur's lips. It was a welcome interruption. At first, it was a gentle press, she could feel only the soft weight of Fleur's face on hers, but soon Fleur opened her mouth, using her own lips to part hers. As kisses tend to do, it evolved. The motion was slow, but hard. Hermione could not contain herself, grinding her jaw into Fleur's. Something had taken hold of her; a feral want was pulsating, taking control of her body. She kissed Fleur so hard it hurt but she only wanted more. Their teeth knocked more than once, but she didn't care. The flavor of Fleur's mouth was addicting. _Let me taste you. _She tried to open her mouth wider, wanting to take all of Fleur inside, to consume her.

Hermione kissed Fleur so hard the veela began to topple back, almost falling but clumsily catching herself on the kitchen table. Fleur moaned into her mouth as Hermione pinned her down, the younger girl grabbing the collar of her shirt and pulling her up, mashing their faces together as hard as she could.

Fleur's sex was throbbing. Her heart pounding and her head growing dizzy, she could hardly breathe. There was no air; all she took in was Hermione. Her senses were all welcomely overwhelmed: _taste Hermione, feel Hermione, hear Hermione, smell Hermione, touch Hermione. _She was being dominated, the Kingdom of Fleur overthrown, controlled. And she wanted it.

Hermione pulled back sharply, her lungs desperately attempting to hold on to air. Both of them were panting. Her mind knew that this was fast, but her body didn't care. The warmth between her legs was in control, and her head would not get a word in edge wise. She wanted Fleur, and she was going to have her.

Fleur couldn't think as Hermione divided her legs roughly with her thigh, pressing down all her body weight on Fleur's intimate spot. A trembling moan escaped the cave of her mouth, filling the air with notice of her pleasure. Hermione smiled wickedly at this. Satisfied with herself, she slowly grated her hips with deliberate slowness against Fleur's groin.

"I want you," Hermione continued rocking against Fleur. Every moan, every small pant, Fleur made added to her fire, making her press harder, increasing pressure and speed with each stoke. She began to pull on the French woman's shirt, yanking it half off before she met unexpected protest.

"Hermione… Hermione, stop, STOP!"

The English witch, straddled on top of Fleur, halted, barely hearing Fleur's voice through the thickness of desire clouding her senses. It was taking all her control to restrain herself. She growled, her body needing to continue. How dare Fleur stop her?

"A bed, perhaps?" Fleur suggested, "This table is not-"

Hermione dragged her into a kiss again, yanking them both off the kitchen table, and leading Fleur into her bedroom. Making sure their lips never parted, they knocked into the couch, into the coffee table. Several of Hermione's books fell with a thud to the floor, but they went unnoticed.

Desire, want, lust often impairs thinking. The few thoughts Hermione's usually busy brain could muster told her that the want consuming her was unnatural. Never had the joint between her thighs ached so badly. It was slick, wet, and yearning to be touched. She swore that if she did not have Fleur then, she would go mad. She would tear herself apart.

"Touch me," Hermione's voice was raspy and low as they both collapsed onto her bed. It hit Fleur's ears and the veela bought her down, bringing their lips together again.

Hermione knew she couldn't bare it any longer. Between kisses she unbuckled her belt, Fleur was not unaware of this but her hands, which were clenching tightly onto Hermione's waist, made no immediate effort to move. However, Hermione was not so patient. She grabbed Fleur's hand and put it on her breast.

Guiding Fleur's hand down slowly, it trailed down her stomach, eventually reaching down to the edge of her underwear.

"_Please_."

That was all the motivation Fleur needed; she shoved her hand down into Hermione's pants. Hermione gasped instantly, as Fleur ran one finger up along the slit of her sex. Barely, she dipped her finger between the slit, feeling Hermione's swollen clit. She divided the lips with two of her fingers and rubbed the area around Hermione's center, encircling Hermione's clit with intense strokes.

"I want you_ inside _me," Hermione moaned, both begging and commanding. Again Hermione took Fleur's hand and began to guide it downward. Instinct steered the veela, and she slowly drove one finger into the girl. Hermione bit down on her lip in pleasure, before she began rocking her hips wildly. She wanted more, more, more of Fleur inside her.

Fleur rewarded Hermione's passion with another finger, pressing deep and curling her fingers up inside the brunette. Hermione's breaths became shallow, quicker; she bit her lip harder and harder until she started to taste iron. Her hips buckled violently when Fleur suddenly pressed down on her clit with her thumb.

And then she came. She moaned loudly at first, but as the waves of pleasure continued, she couldn't make a sound. A hard breath was stuck in her throat and her voice could not move as she felt the fire in her body run through her muscles in an abrupt, relaxing release.

* * *

**AN: I definitely did not mean for things to move this quickly, but this chapter wrote itself. It just happened. This changes my plans for this story, but I think you guys will appreciate the new direction more. I've never written a sex scene before, and hope to know what you guys think about it. As always, reviews are welcome.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Landlocked**

Chapter 6

by Bone Structure

It was a gorgeous, sunny morning. The kind of morning where the sun would sneak it though shades and trickle into room, quietly heating everything it touched. Warmth radiated throughout the room. Hermione's eyes were just barely open when she smiled at the feeling of the sun's rays softly on her face. Then she opened her eyes wider and remembered a whole other reason to smile.

Fleur's senses awakened to a small kiss pressed against her back, between shoulder blades. It was not welcome. Used to waking up alone, a shock ran through her body and she screamed. With urgency, she turned. She tried to maneuver herself out of bed, but she was too deeply entangled in sheets - and someone's legs. In her (unsuccessful) attempts to stand up and free herself, she accidently caused herself to roll over, and fall out of bed.

Hermione, though a bit confused at her lover's reaction, found Fleur's struggle somewhat endearing.

"Fleur, what are you doing?" Hermione moved over and hung her head at the edge of the bedside, watching Fleur as she tried to unravel herself from her mess of sheets. At the sound of her own name, Fleur stopped struggling and looked up word at the girl addressing her. A hint of fear gleamed in Fleur's eyes that made Hermione's smile fall. Hermione saw the other girl's mouth open slightly, as if she were about to say something of importance, but it did not move, nor did any sound come tumbling out of it.

"Is something wrong?"

Fleur looked up again at Hermione.

"I do not know what has happened." Fleur gave up her battle with the sheets.

"What do you mean you don't know what's happened?" Now Hermione too was confused.

Fleur could not respond. She knew she should have been yelling. She should show distress, run.

"Have…. Have you charmed these awful things to keep me here?" Fleur's voice croaked, her hands gripping the sheets of her imprisonment tightly, tears threatening to form in her eyes. "Please, please, let me leave."

"Fleur, now I don't understand. Why are you acting like a prisoner?" The younger witch shifted herself, sitting up on the bed.

"I do not recall how I arrived here." There was an emptiness in Fleur's voice, each syllable was pronounce precisely as the one before it.

"Fleur-"

"And how do you know my name?" This time Fleur yelled. That was the line. The veil of nonchalance and numbness that had covered her before was violently ripped from her. She realized now she was naked, all of her exposed to this… person, this stranger. _How dare she know my name? _Her stomach clenched in a confusing concoction of rage and anxiety.

"What?" Hermione was getting nervous now. "I've known you for years! Relax, Fleur. Please. Think for a moment."

"I am thinking!" Fleur's voice was suddenly heavier. It became raspy and deep. "Do not lie to me!"

Fleur let out an inhuman howling screech. Hermione felt the yell pierce her ears, clawing its way through her eardrums and causing even her brain to vibrate. The pain was immense; she closed her eyes tightly and clenched her head between her hands. Hermione too began to scream, the agony overwhelming her senses.

There was a shift, as if all the Earth's energy were altered. The air was electric and Fleur's body was conductive. Rapidly she felt her bones crack, they shattered in her skin. She couldn't stand it. Her screams grew louder as she could hear her own bones painfully rearrange themselves. The shattered bones came together again, both pulling and pushing at her skin.

Hermione could barely manage to open her eyes and see the creature in front of her. Where most people would have felt fear, Hermione felt worry. Even as she struggled to keep her eyes open she could see the creature's pain. She could see its blue flesh tearing, heavy bones ripping through, remolding into unsightly, foreign shapes. But beyond that, she could see pain. She saw the way its face - its sharp teeth, its pointed features - contorted and cried out. It was Fleur. Her Fleur.

Disregarding thought, Hermione reached out, yelling Fleur's name and holding out her arms to hold her. But Fleur; or rather the creature, the monster; lashed out her claws. What once were Fleur's long and delicate fingers, the instruments that had, only hours ago, had brought Hermione pleasure, were horribly transformed into brutal talons.

As Hermione's arms attempted to hold Fleur down, she felt a shrill tearing in her stomach. She could barely process the pain before she kneeled over, desperately clutching her stomach and doing all she could grasp the air and contain it.

Hermione's distressed cries violently struck Fleur's eardrums. Fleur opened her eyes and saw blood running unto the floor. A part of her was disgusted, not by the blood, but by herself. Instinct told her to do something. She could not take the sight of the vicious red pouring down. It was the sight of life draining.

Fleur, her unexpected transformation slowing slightly, picked up the collapsing girl before her, swooping her into her arms with unknown strength.

Even if her transformation was halting, Fleur's legs ached as she walked, holding the bleeding stranger close to her chest. She needed to get help. She toyed with the idea of apparating, but questioned whether or not the younger girl's body was up to it. Secretly, she also doubted she could do it without splinching off an arm, even if she were alone.

Fleur used all her strength to carry the girl to bed, doing her best to do so with grace and tenderness. It was difficult with her feral, awkward limbs. She could hardly bend her tight, almost jointless arms.

Fleur was never good at healing. It was not a magic she had ever excelled it, always having preferred the offensive practices. She did not know what to do but vaguely recalled something about pressure. _Apply pressure, _a distant voice in her head whispered.

Quickly grabbing the bedsheet off the floor, Fleur bunched in her hand and pressed it against the brunette's stomach, where three deep slashes ran far below her flesh. At the slight pressure, Hermione suddenly awoke with a staggering cough.

Fleur tried her best to comfort the girl, but her hands, her claws, were foreign. She had no control over their movements, fearing she would again damage the stranger's soft skin.

"Fleur…"

The veela looked up at the girl's face. "I cannot fix this." Fleur saw her efforts were futile, that the rate of the blood was not calming.

"A… a hospital." Her voice was weakening.

"Are you well enough to travel?"

"Hospital…"

The older witch closed her eyes and gathered the pieces of her broken focus. She pressed both her hands on the girl's shoulders and willed them both to apparate.

* * *

**AN: Forgive me for the lateness of this chapter. It's been almost a month since I last updated. I will try to update more frequently. I also recently figured out that this story does not not show up on search unless you specifically indicate that you want M rated stories. This is horribly disappointing but I'll continue to write regardless. Please leave your reviews. As always, thank you for reading.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Landlocked**

Chapter 7

by Bone Structure

For the second time in far too short a period, Fleur awoke in a strange bed. She felt dizzy and sore. The more she opened her eyes, the faster the room would spin. Tightly, she held her aching eyes shut and pulled the bed sheet over her head. She did not have the energy now to resolve any of her own questions. _Where was she? Why did everything ache? Where did that stranger go?_ She would think about those things later.

Hermione had woken up earlier in a separate room. Although she was tired, there was a pain in her side that kept her up. She took a moment to sit up and look around the room. She remembered how she got there but it felt like a distant and fading memory, though she knew it could not have been long ago. Wanting to observe her hospital room more closely, she slowly brought her body to one side of the bed and began going through of notions of standing. The young witch groaned as she painfully straightened out her posture and tested the wounds on her stomach.

"If it pains you to stand perhaps you should remain seated."

Unaware that she had company, Hermione turned around, somewhat embarrassed to be caught off guard.

The woman at the doorway Hermione recognized immediately, though having seen her only few times prior. She bared an awfully uncanny resemblance to Fleur, and the relation was undeniable. Like Fleur, she was blessed with an incredible figure; she stood, naturally lean, at what was likely six feet.

"Apolline," said Hermione, a welcoming smile growing on her face.

"I did not think you would remember me, Hermione." Apolline came close to the brunette, coming close enough to bed down and kiss the girl's cheek. This caused Hermione to blush furiously. "It has been a long time." _Since the wedding, _thought the younger witch.

Apolline sat across from Hermione in a dingy visitor's chair that, to Hermione, seemed unworthy of her.

"I must ask, not that I'm ungrateful for your visit, but how-" Apolline lightly waved her hand, signaling that Hermione stop.

"The medic tending to Fleur is a close family friend. She called me immediately after Fleur was admitted. She also explained that Fleur was not alone." Apolline looked at her with a knowing look, as if to say _I know what happened, everything is alright._ Hermione should have derived comfort from this, but she couldn't be anything but confused. She could barely recall what had happened. She remembered waking up, kissing Fleur's back softy. She remembered being happy. Then she remembered a gruesome image: Fleur's body breaking within itself, cracking its own bones so easily yet painfully. Hermione's entire body shook violently.

"How is Fleur doing?" Hermione began to panic, her hands visibly shaking at her sides.

Apolline sensed the young girl's anxiety and sat down next to her; she took Hermione's trembling hands in her own and smiled softly. Though she was not entirely calmed, a gentle wave of tranquility came over Hermione.

"I visited her earlier; she was sleeping. She seems to have sustained no severe injuries. They are keeping her for observation, perhaps a day or two, to ensure that all is well internally. " Apolline gave her small, reassuring smile but Hermione stayed silent.

"Hermione, I hope you do not hold this against her... This was not under her control." Still hold Hermione's hand, Apolline instinctively caressed the younger girl's palm with her thumb.

"I knew it wasn't. When I saw her pain… I knew. She didn't want it." The young witch could feel her face getting wet, but could do nothing to cease the flow of tears. "I don't know what happened. One moment we- we were…" Hermione didn't know how to, or if Fleur would even her to, say _we were making love_. So she didn't. "And then she couldn't remember anything. She thought I was keep-keeping her hostage." She hadn't even finished the sentence before bursting into uncontrollable sobs. The blond witch held Hermione, tightly, softly.

"Hermione, you have done nothing wrong."Apolline spoke into Hermione's hair, still holding the girl close until her sobs were calmed. "It is her heritage."

"What-what happened?"

"I cannot tell you exactly, as I was not there and am not informed of the full story. But she transformed, yes?" Hermione nodded against her chest. "Since Fleur's veela blood is… diluted, for lack of other words, she cannot transform at will. It is an entirely emotional reaction."

"She couldn't remember anything. She looked at me as if I were a stranger."

"What do you mean she could not remember _anything_?"

"She spent the night at my place. When she woke up she couldn't remember who I was."

Apolline pulled back from the younger girl slightly. _Spent the nigh_t? She did not understand previously, but now she did. Now she had a vague clarity. She knew the cause of Fleur's shift, her transformation.

"When you say she spent the night, do you mean that you two…?"

The brunette looked up, directly into Apolline's eyes. She could feel her entire face go red as she nodded. _I hope Fleur doesn't mind me telling her._

"This changes a lot," Apolline said simply, easily, as if she had resolved all matters with that one sentences. Hermione did not know that what followed that one simple statement was about to make her life exceedingly difficult.

Apolline let go of Hermione entirely, then again took the other witch's hands in hers.

"Hermione, a lot has changed for Fleur now. Love for veelas is not like it is for humans. Depending on what ones believes, that is. I understand that some humans believe in something like 'the one,' that there is only one person with whom they belong. Veelas do not only believe in this idea, but it is very true for them. It is a magical bond that forms. Like humans, veelas cannot choose whom they love, it simply happens. Many veelas do not realize this bond has been created until after _physical_ relations have begun." Hermione saw where this was going. She wasn't sure that she liked it.

"A veelas' true lover is their _complement_. Fleur's reaction to your relationship indicates that you are her complement."

"What?" Hermione stood up and began pacing about the room, suddenly forgetting about her painful injury. "That still doesn't explain why she forgot or why she transformed or why… why anything!"

"Hermione, please sit. You must think of the veela as Fleur's subconscious. The misconception is that the veela is a creature that lives inside us, but that is untrue. We _are_ veelas, we do not share our vessels with them. The veela is an expression of how we feel, and it is also our ultimate primal defense. This does not happen very often, I have never seen it before, but I have heard of this occurring. This is a test. Fleur's subconscious is uncertain. She is afraid that you do not feel for as intensely her as she does for you. Her veela heritage has taken over, and it is testing you. "

"Is it testing me by making her forget me?" Hermione stopped her pacing and glared at Apolline. "Where is the sense in that?"

"It is a test of patience, of love. The veela, Fleur, believes that if you love her, you will wait. She will regain her memory of you eventually, once her subconscious is sure that you truly love her. It's a protective measure against you. If you do not prove that you love her, then she will not remember and she will not be hurt."

"What if I don't love her? I have _liked_ her, yes, for a long time, but _love_… I don't know. That is an entirely different thing. We have not even spoken in so long…"

"Time, Hermione. That is all you can do, wait."

* * *

**AN: I apologize for the wait. I felt incredibly blocked while writing this chapter. Thank you all for your wonderful reviews. I would like to address the issue of the sunflower now, since so many have asked about it. I have **_**not**_** forgotten about it, and it will be back. **


	8. Chapter 8

**Landlocked**

Chapter 8

by Bone Structure

Hermione stepped quietly into the room, stopping first at the doorway to make sure Fleur wasn't up as she entered. Cautiously, she proceeded, looking at Fleur the entire time, shaking anxiously every time the veela stirred in her sleep.

Hermione took a seat at the edge of the bed, noticing the room had no actual chairs, and calmly gazed at the woman before her. It was so strange to see her there, nothing to indicate that she was alive except for the rhythmic expansion of her chest. Hermione had not seen the women for years, prior the day before, but she was always haunted by the memory of Fleur: her lively expressions, her slightly crooked but enchanting smile. It brought her some panic to see a woman she knew to be so full of life almost motionless in a hospital bed.

Fleur's hand lay open at her side, her long and delicate fingers curled softy. Hermione blushed, pleasantly remembering where those fingers had been not twenty-four hours ago. And now they seemed just as enticing as then. She vision naturally blurred all else as she focused intently on Fleur's skilled hand. Gradually, her eyes trailed upward, first tracing out the outline of her arm before settling on her shoulder.

On Fleur's shoulder, Hermione was able to see a small, purple bruise, surrounded by red teeth marks. The younger witch knew that was her mark; she remembered the exact moment her body shook in ecstasy, when she could do nothing but bury her teeth deep into Fleur's shoulder.

The brunette bent down; slowly, cautiously; and she pressed her lip down against the bruise...

Fleur shook slightly and a small noise came from her throat. At the sound Hermione looked up at veela, whose eyes were just beginning to open. Some instinct brought Hermione's lips to the front of Fleur's neck; she smiled when she felt Fleur swallow against her mouth.

Hermione's relentless mouth made its way around Fleur's perfectly white neck, softly sucking and kissing to make the older woman's throat vibrate with low, breathy moans.

This was the woman Hermione had wanted for years, the irresistible French woman, the alluring veela. She knew she shouldn't touch her, not while she was in this state, not while she couldn't remember her, but the temptation was stronger than her will. The crook of Fleur's delicate neck was too inviting for her to resist.

Fleur, enjoying the kiss of a woman foreign to her, failed to stop Hermione as her kisses moved downward. Hermione pulled down on her hospital gown, pealing it slowly off Fleur's body... It was not until Fleur felt a cold breeze run along her chest, telling her just how bare her chest was, did she put her hands up in protest of her Hermione's enticing mouth.

"Stop," Fleur half commanded and half moaned. Hermione, knowing that it was neither the time nor the place for her actions, backed away from Fleur. "I'm sorry," Hermione whispered with guilt.

"Do not apologize. I was enjoying myself," Fleur's voice was cool, calm, steady. It was unshaken by worry. "Though… I do wonder what has caused you to act in such a way."

Hermione didn't know what to say. She knew there was no appropriate, entirely honesty response to the question that she could give while Fleur's memory was gone.

"I can't explain it, really. I just wanted to." Hermione really meant to say _I've wanted to for years… I've wanted you for years. And now that I finally seemed to have a grasp on you, you're gone…_ But those were not the words that came out of her.

"Are you in good health?" Fleur asked, suddenly looking around and remembering the events preceding their hospital stay. "I am so sorry to have injured you."

"I'll live. Nothing some stitches couldn't fix."

"Stiches?" The guilt suddenly became overly evident in Fleur's face.

"Yes, but it's no big deal really, I've had much worse." Hermione couldn't help the shiver running down her body as she thought about the war. _So much worse…_

Fleur didn't know the woman before her. She had no memory, no connection, to her prior to their strange and eventful morning but she didn't like the idea of "worse." She imagined that the wound she had inflicted would leave a scar. Worse wounds probably left scars as well. How many scars did her body have? How many times did she come near death?

"I'm very sorry." It was all really Fleur could say in her situation, "That's never happened to me... "

"The Veela transformation?"

"Yes, wait, how did you know?" It was now that Fleur realized she had her arms around the younger her. She didn't move them away.

"Know what?"

"That I am a veela." Though it wasn't much of a secret, the existence of her thrall usually gave it away to any half way smart person, Fleur felt uncomfortable with this girl knowing her heritage. Suddenly it felt like a piece of information that was much too personal to share with just anybody. Her identity was out in the open, and now she felt horribly transparent to the brunette in her arms.

Hermione did not know how to take Fleur's question. Should she answer honestly? Should she tell her they had known each other for years? But she couldn't…

"I knew after you transformed. I read of something similar in books, so I just assumed…" Hermione lied, her voice shrinking with every word.

"I do not know why I transformed," Fleur began to explain, "I just woke up…" Tears slowly began to build in up Fleur's eyes. "And you were there… Kissing me. I-I do not even know who, who you are. Now here you are again. Lying with me... Do you know? Do you know why do I keep waking up next to you?"

Hermione's eyes met Fleur's. She knew the truth; she knew what she wanted to say but instinct told her not to. The truth, their truth, would have to be withheld.

"I can't say, Fleur. And please, I beg you, don't… don't ask me to explain." There was a weakness in her voice that forced Fleur to follow the girl's wishes.

"But you know my name… may I know yours? May I ask for that much?"

"Hermione. My name is Hermione."


	9. Chapter 9

**Landlocked**

Chapter 9

by Bone Structure

Fleur sat at her kitchen table, ready to enjoy the breakfast she had just made. As she sat she picked up the orange juice carton and started to pour it into her glass. When she lifted the carton back up to stop the pour, a tiny bit of juice spilled onto the table.

For a moment, Fleur was captivated by the spill, though it was just a few drops. And when she was done looking at it, her eyes looked around the table. She was alone - as usual. Fleur had been living by herself for quite some time but she had never felt lonely like she did in that moment. She wished there was someone else, someone to be kind of enough to stand up, get a napkin, and clean the orange juice off the table.

Truthfully, Fleur had been lonely all week. After she had come back from her hospital visit nothing had seemed the same. Of course, everything was, in reality, the same. Her books were still in all the same places; her tea and sugar lay untouched; the bed sheets were just as neatly folded as they were went she had let them. No Goldilocks had entered her house while she was away.

But she didn't get the same joy from these things that she used to get. She took little joy in her usual morning breakfast, which often put a content smile on her face.

Fleur sort of knew what was wrong with her. It was Hermione. _Hermione_, she said the name in her head, as she had done many times before that week. It was such a strange name. _Hermione_. She had never heard anything like it before, but it was a confusingly wonderful name. It made her heart break its rhythm and start to quicken.

But Fleur knew nothing about Hermione. After Hermione had told Fleur her beautiful, delightful name, the two had stayed silent and Fleur had eventually dozed off in her hospital bed. When she woke up, Hermione wasn't there. Fleur was too afraid to ask her mother about this _Hermione_. She seemed like a hallucination, an angel her mind conjured in sickness.

X

Returning home from the hospital, Hermione walked up her front her to her door. Hermione suddenly realized she had never taken her keys to the hospital. _Duh, Fleur aperated you two_, she thought.

Hermione looked around to see if mortals were looking (Hermione happened to live in a mostly muggle town) and then whispered a spell under her breath. She heard a small click and knowing the door had unlocked, she took a step forward.

_Crunch._

Hermione looked down to see what she had stepped on. It was a flower, more specifically a sunflower. Hermione bent down and picked up the flower. It was not until she had lifted it off the ground that she noticed there was a small, white card attached to it.

"No one else could ever compete. By best date by far. "

Hermione couldn't stop the smile that came to her face. Fleur was nothing if not a charmer. "A very good one," said Hermione out loud, knowing no one could hear her.

The witch proceeded to walk into her home, suddenly feeling a pang of loneliness in her chest. Not long ago she was with Fleur, kissing in her kitchen, on her table, making love in her bed…

Hermione sat down on her couch, feeling defeated. Her life had become a mess very quickly. She put her face and her hands and tears began to swell in her eyes, threating to fall until they actually did fall, viciously and relentlessly. She tried to wipe her eyes but the tears simply came back each time.

She had liked Fleur for a very long time, it was true. Since she was a teenager she had always had a soft spot in her heart for the older woman. Every time the French woman smiled she felt her heart soar and ache to kiss her. She had only done so once before this recent disaster, right before Fleur's wedding. For weeks after that first kiss she spent so much time trying to analyze why it happened. She knew that she had wanted it, but did Fleur want it? Was it some strange fluke of pre-wedding nerves? Hermione knew this weak explanation made little sense, but it hurt a lot less than to believe that Fleur wanted her too. Because if she wanted her, then why weren't they together? Was Bill better than her?

After many sleepless days, Hermione slowly let go of the kiss. Although she always remembered it and held it in her heart's backburner, she moved on. Fleur no longer consumed every thought – out of sight and out of mind.

But now, again, Fleur was all Hermione could think about.

* * *

**AN: Hello! It's been a long time… eight months since I last updated? I haven't given up on this fic. If there's any interest in having this fic continue, please review! If I know you guys want it, I'm way more likely to keep writing!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Landlocked**

Chapter 10

by Bone Structure

Hermione sat down on her couch with a quill and some parchment, ready to work. It had been a few days since she had seen Fleur, but still her mind was occupied by thoughts of the French woman. "Work," Hermione said out loud to herself, dipping her quill in some ink.

But when she sat set the quill down to the parchment, nothing happened. She sighed. She put down the tools on her coffee table and leaned back against her couch. She focused on her breath, slowly breathing in and out. As her breath slowed she relaxed, closing her eyes and melting into the form of her couch. But she did not fall asleep.

Instead she imagined Fleur. An image came to her mind, an image of Fleur straddling her on the couch. The image was so vivid she could feel the warmth of Fleur's thighs against hers. In her mind, Fleur bent down, cupping Hermione's soft face in her white hands before meeting their foreheads. Hermione could feel every breath that escaped from Fleur's pink lips; she felt the breath hit her face. Hermione wanted their lips to meet…

Hermione became lost in her fantasy, arousal overtaking her body, running through her veins like a slow drug. She suddenly ached for the curves of Fleur's figure, to hold the other woman in her hands and press her lips against every part of Fleur's body.

But then the doorbell rang.

Hermione's eyes popped open and she signed as she got up to answer the door. It was Ginny.

"Where have you been the past few days? It's like you fell off the planet after we went speed dating," said Ginny as she took a seat on Hermione couch.

"It's been a busy week," Hermione sat next to Ginny, "Did you end up seeing anyone?"

"I matched with one guy. Not really the one I wanted, but we're going on a date tomorrow, actually. Might as well give it a shot, right?"

Hermione nodded at this and smiled, "I'm glad you're really trying to get over Harry."

"Me too…" Ginny looked down and picked up the quill that was on the table. She started fiddling with it in her fingers. "What about you? You flipped about something and practically ran out of the place when the matches were made!" Ginny stopped looking at the quill for a second and looked back at Hermione.

In her mind, Hermione quickly debated whether or not she should tell Ginny about Fleur. Would Ginny be angry that she was falling for her brother's ex-wife? Would she understand that she had been crushing on Fleur since her fourth year?

"It's… complicated."

"Ooh," said Ginny, raising her eyebrows as she began doodling on a clean piece of parchment, quill still in hand. "Do tell." Ginny smiled.

Hermione sighed, she wanted both to tell Ginny and keep it a secret. And she knew it was now time to decide between the two.

"When we were speed dating, I ran into Fleur."

"What!" Ginny dropped the quill unto the parchment. It splattered and ruined her doodle. "You saw that French bitch!"

"Ginny, Ginny, please… calm down!" Hermione quickly reached over the table and grabbed the quill back. "I need you to understand."

"Understand what?" Ginny still wasn't too fond of Fleur, even many years later.

"I ended up on a date with her… And I enjoyed it." Hermione decided to leave out the details of her longwinded crush on the French woman. "And I want to see her again."

"What. I am so confused." Ginny bent over, burying her face in her lap, before popping up again. "I didn't even know Fleur liked girls like that!"

"Well, she likes me. I think…"

Ginny waved a hand in front of her, signaling for Hermione to stop. Her face was horrified as she stood up from her seat quietly and walked into the kitchen. _"This is already too much,"_ Ginny thought to herself.

"Ginny!" Hermione felt so weak. She had been doing that a lot lately. "Damn it, come back, please. I need you." A few moments of silence passed. Hermione wished she hadn't told Ginny. She knew the girl wouldn't respond well, and now she sat alone, rejected by her best friend.

But when Ginny came back in she was holding two glasses in her hand and a bottle of wine. Hermione let a smile form on her face.

"I went in for some water but this will do us better," she said as she put the two glasses on the table. She opened the bottle and poured the two glasses until they were nearly full to the brim.

Hermione wasn't a big drinker, but this time she didn't hesitate to take the wine glass in her hand.

"I need your help, please."

"I don't like Fleur. You know that."

The curly haired woman brought the wine to her lips. "Please. Can you just… pretend it's not Fleur? Let's just say it's any other woman."

"She hurt bill," Ginny sighed. "And now she's gonna hurt you too."

Drinking more wine, Hermione wanted to tell her how true that was. Subconsciously, her hand touched her stomach where the wound was still tender.

"I like her, Ginny," Hermione was honest.

"I can't stop you from being with her, especially not if it makes you happy," Ginny physically cringed thinking about her best friend with her ex-sister in law. "Even if I don't like it." Ginny made a _blegh_ sound.

"But there's another problem."

"Fleur is one big problem," Ginny said with a laugh, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Take me seriously, please. You can be worse than Ron sometimes, you know?"

"Oh, fine, fine, tell me." Ginny put her glass down on the table, finally taking a moment to be serious.

"Something happened on our date, and-and… she doesn't remember me anymore." Hermione looked down at the wine glass in front of her and began to trace the edges of the glass.

"What do you mean she doesn't remember! You saw used to see her all the time."

"Parts of her memory are gone... for now. It's hard to explain." All Hermione could do without revealing all the details was make it sound like a strange case of amnesia.

"This is weird. And bad timing for you, Hermione."

"I finally enjoy a date with someone and they forget who I am." Hermione poured herself another glass of wine.

"You can still go out with her… " Ginny observed, "Most people don't really know each other when they start dating anyway, Hermione. You seem to be forgetting that."

"You think I haven't thought about? I'm just wondering… do I tell her I know her? Do I pretend I never knew her?"

"You're such an overthinker. Just go out with her."

Hermione sighed, "I could do that… Instead of sulking in my house."

"Exactly," Ginny smiled, "even if you have horrible taste."

"You're awful, you know that?" Hermione smiled back, "But thanks for the advice."

Ginny and Hermione spent the rest of the night slowly drinking, laughing and talking about their love lives. And Hermione realized that talking about her situation gave her resolve. "I'll ask her out," thought Hermione to herself, "I need to do it"

* * *

**AN: A long wait, but the story continues!**


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